The Flower Files
by CharlotteMHolmes
Summary: Mycroft brings Sherlock a case concerning a number of secret files with a dangerous background. What happens when the case involves a huge cover-up, and begins to effect Sherlock's relationship with an old family friend? Mystery/Romance. Sherlock/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Hello Everyone! My name is Marissa. This isn't my first try an Fanfiction, but this is my very first Sherlock story. I love the show, so I'm excited to share this with you all!

It will be full of suspense, adventure, and romance. Hope you all enjoy it!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Sherlock held the door open to 221 B, allowing her to enter first. She walked in slowly, her bare feet still numb from the cold. For some reason, the state of the apartment took her by surprise. It wasn't as if she had expected to see a big change. Everything was in its proper place, and while most of the items were improper in themselves, they still had a home there.

After everything that had happened that night, she simply expected the apartment to be in disarray. Everything else was.

The door slammed behind her. She stood there, taking in her quiet surroundings. When she opened her eyes, she watched as Sherlock rummaged through his bookcase. After a few seconds, Sherlock emerged with a single cigarette and lighter. He lit it quickly, took a deep drag, and sat in the armchair closest to the window. After only one more puff he dropped the cigarette in the empty mug next to him, the hissing sound of the cigarette making a low, harsh noise.

"Sherlock."

He remained silent. Staring down at his hands, he continued to replay the events of the night. He never expected that things would go this far. That everything could fall out of place so quickly.

"Thank you."

She stood there, waiting for his response. If he had looked at her, he would have seen it in her eyes; pain, embarrassment, and desperation. She needed him to acknowledge her. No, not only acknowledge her. Let her know that all this hadn't been for nothing.

"Sherlock?" She repeated, wrapping his coat closely around her body.

He finally turned his head upward, not looking her in the eyes. He remained stoic, as if allowing her the smallest part of his attention.

"Thank you," she said again.

"I heard you the first time," Sherlock snapped, avoiding her gaze.

It was too late for pleasantries. She had nearly gotten them both killed.

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><p><em>1 Week Earlier<em>

While it was morning, the world outside of the windows seemed far too gray, even for London's standards. A light rain had started, causing long streaks to appear on the glass. Sherlock Holmes brought his hand to the window, feeling the cold transfer from the glass to his fingertips.

It had been weeks since he had solved his last case. For whatever reason, London and its citizens had remained somewhat silent. There wan no new serial killer, all of the priceless works of art remained safely in their museums, and there hadn't been a peep out of Moriarty for months.

Without having to look, he could sense his friend, John Watson, sitting in the armchair behind him. John had been favoring his "good" leg lately, and had been taking more time going up the stairs to his bedroom at the end of the day. As John unconsciously rubbed his knee, Sherlock grew even more pessimistic. If John's pains were coming back, it meant that he was just as restless as Sherlock.

Sherlock heard the doorbell ring, causing him to simultaneously grab the newspaper near him and sit in the chair across from John. A short exchange could be heard from the front door. Soon enough, he heard the all too familiar sound of small feet bounding up the stairs.

"Sherlock! John!"

Mrs. Hudson entered the room, and was met with waving a gold envelope into the air. "We have…an invitation!"

"We, Mrs. Hudson?" John asked, barely looking up from his book.

"Yes!" She said excitedly, waving the envelope in the air.

Before either John or Mrs. Watson could get in another word, Sherlock instantly rose from his seat, walked into his bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

Startled, Mrs. Hudson stared at John for an explanation.

"Mrs. Hudson…who exactly is the invitation from?"

"Well, a lovely man came to the door and delivered it, saying that our presence has been requested! He is in a car waiting out front. Apparently, he thought it best

that I show Sherlock the letter, instead of telling him outright where we are going."

"And where would that be?"

"I haven't a clue, dear. Mycroft, I guess? But obviously Sherlock has that figured out already, if you choose to take that from his reaction."

Mrs. Hudson handed the envelope over to John, who opened it carefully. Reading its contents, he sighed and stuffed the invitation back into the envelope.

"Mrs. Hudson, go ahead and get yourself ready. We've been summoned to Buckingham Palace."

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><p>Hope you enjoyed it! More to come very soon. Review if you can!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After at least an hour of negotiations, Sherlock, John, and Mrs. Watson all arrived via chauffeur to Buckingham Palace. John couldn't help but notice how distracted Sherlock seemed; not in his normal, thinking of 20 different things at once way. He looked out the window in a way that seemed to say, "I know exactly what is at the end of this journey, and I will do my best to hide my excitement."

While he had put up a fight against a visit to see his older brother, John had a feeling that Sherlock was actually somewhat relieved. It had been weeks since their last case, and a meeting with Mycroft meant for an interesting afternoon.

As they were guided into a sitting room, Mrs. Hudson let out a high-pitched squeal after every turn in the many hallways. Their attendant kept shooting them looks, in which John just shrugged in response. He brought them to a grand sitting room, the very same room Sherlock and Watson had visited months before.

After being set up with places to sit and an offering of tea, the attendant closed the door behind him. They sat in awkward silence, feeling uncomfortable in the stiff furniture.

"Mrs. Hudson, are you mad?" Sherlock cried, narrowing his eyes.

John looked at Mrs. Hudson's fingers, which already had several buttons stashed in her palm.

"They've fallen off the cushions on their own, I swear it! And if I remember correctly, the last time you were here you got off with a bloody ashtray!"

"Precisely," Sherlock replied, under his breath. "I actually left with something of use."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the door to the sitting room once again opened. In walked the attendant with tea, Mycroft, and a tall man in a suit.

The man, bald, tall, with a round stomach, was introduced by Mycroft as Mr. Washington. Washington shook all of their hands warmly. Mycroft made the introductions, waiting to introduce Sherlock last.

"And this is my dear little brother-"

"Washington isn't your real name."

John and Mrs. Hudson looked up in slight shock, watching as "Mr. Washington's" eyes grew just the slightest bit wider.

"Oh really? And how would you know that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We've only just met. Do you actually expect me to explain how I deducted this?"

"Mr. Washington's" face few into a strange contortion, causing John to shift uncomfortably in his chair. If Mycroft had brought this man here because he had a case, the last thing that Sherlock needed to be doing was piss him off right the introductions.

Suddenly, the man let out a loud laugh from his gut and clapped Mycroft on the back.

"You weren't kidding, were you? And to think I thought it was just an act! Dear fellow, you are quite right. I'm no Washington. But would you be able to guess what it actually is?"

Annoyed at his happy outburst, Sherlock let out a sigh and pursed his lips. "Herbert Rowling."

The man absolutely whooped at Sherlock's answer. Mrs. Hudson let out a nervous giggle, which stopped immediately when realized that Sherlock was becoming more and more agitated by the second.

"I'm sorry, but I am a very busy man, and if you really beckoned me from my home to come all the way here so you two could make me play guessing games, than I might as well-"

Sherlock was interrupted by the sound of laughing. The door to the sitting room opened. A young woman walked into the room, finishing up her conversation with the attendant. She nodded goodbye and than gave a smile to those sitting.

John took notice to her instantly. She was of average height, with dark brown hair that lay wavy down her back. She was beautiful, with a friendly face and large brown eyes. John heard a quick intake of breath, and looked questionably at Sherlock; the noise seemed to come from him, but his face showed no evidence of the fact.

"Ah, yes! I forgot to mention, we have another guest," Mycroft stated, the group standing as the woman walked closer.

"May I introduce Ms. Charlotte Gates. She is here in London as my guest, as she has graciously accepted to assist me with the Queen's Benefit for England's Children's Hospital in between her travels for charity."

"Surely I'm more than that, Mycroft," Charlotte said, smiling.

"Of course. Ms. Gates is an old friend of the family's. If I do remember, there was a time where she and Sherlock used to spend hours-"

"In between adventures, I see?"

Everyone, besides Charlotte, looked unnervingly towards Sherlock. He had a slight grin on his face, as if he knew his interruption would receive a reaction.

"Choosing to advance the betterment of society isn't exactly what I would call an adventure," Charlotte replied, barely giving Sherlock a glance.

"What, no room service in your hotel room?"

"Quite the opposite, actually. The locals in Uganda were able to supply me with my own hut, and I was fortunate enough to have a fruit tree right outside my window."

The two stared at each other, testing looks on each of their faces. John looked from one to the other, surprised at Sherlock's interrogation on this seemingly sweet young woman.

To John's surprise, Sherlock was the first to allow his face to break into a small smile.

"Lovely to see you, Charlotte."

Charlotte smiled, her eyes shining slightly.

"Likewise, Sherlock."

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><p>More to come soon! Hope you enjoyed it. Review if you can!<p>

-Marissa


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate it!

From here on out, the story really begins. Most of the important characters have been introduced, and the mystery is about to be revealed. The chapters should be much longer from now on, so I hope you all enjoy them!

This chapter is continuing from John's perspective, but that will change in the near future.

-Marissa

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

The two of them smiled warmly at each other, much to John's confusion. The last time he had seen Sherlock smile in that way was when he had caught Detective Lestrade searching a crime scene for his police badge, when Sherlock had already lifted it from his pocket hours before.

It was a genuine smile. A smile that John was convinced were few and far between.

"Sorry Watson, I've seen we have confused you," Mycroft started, as Charlotte moved forward to receive a kiss on the cheek from Mrs. Hudson.

"Charlotte is an old family friend of the Holmes'. Her grandmother was our neighbor growing up."

"Yes, spending my summers living near both the Holmes' brothers always proved to be entertaining. So, you are the infamous Dr. Watson?"

Charlotte stuck out her hand for John to shake. John took it willfully, noticing how her eyes shone as she smiled.

"Pleasure to meet you. And call me John. I believe Sherlock has mentioned the excursions that you are a part of throughout the year."

"Yes, Sherlock loves to brag about me," Charlotte said, shooting a look at Sherlock. "I've been reading your blog. Sherlock sent me the link while I was working in Haiti. I have to say that I am always disappointed when I can't find the Internet. It means that I am not able to keep up with your adventures."

John nodded, and added a smile. While John could tell Charlotte was a sensitive subject with Sherlock, he never pushed him to reveal more. Sherlock had mentioned Charlotte from time to time, but had never mentioned how lovely she was. John wondered if he left that part out on purpose.

"Charlotte always pays me a visit whenever she is in London! So sweet of her," Mrs. Hudson interjected, her cup of tea tittering as she placed it in its saucer.

"Charlotte! Where are you staying while you are in London? Surely you will allow me to house you while you are visiting. I've just redone my spare bedroom, and I'd love to have a guest!"

John thought he saw Sherlock wince out of the corner of his eye, but Sherlock seemed perfectly at ease on a second glance.

"That would be fantastic, Mrs. Hudson. That is, as long as Sherlock doesn't mind having me so close. There were times where he said my simple presence in a house would distract him from his work."

"You have a habit of tapping your foot absentmindedly while you read," Sherlock said, taking a sip of his tea. "It can be heard throughout the house."

Mrs. Hudson scoffed loudly, giving Sherlock a motherly look. Charlotte seemed amused by his comment, not offended as John had expected her to be.

"But…" Sherlock began, setting his tea back on the table. "If you have no other place to stay, and Mrs. Hudson has offered her home to you, then you are welcome. I'm not working at a case at the moment anyway."

"You are now, Sherlock. I have another commission for you," Mycroft interjected.

"Oh really? Has The Queen lost track of her Royal cigarette holder?" Sherlock asked with a serious look on his face.

"No dear brother. And don't flatter yourself. If she had any personal issues, I'd doubt she would reach out to you after your last fiasco," Mycroft stopped, taking a sip of his tea in order to give time for the insult to sink in.

"Jones, would you mind escorting Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Gates to the front? I'm sure they would appreciate if you would show them some of the medieval artwork that we have newly displayed in the front hall. I needn't bother them with this bit of business."

Charlotte rose instantly, which caused Mrs. Hudson to stand slowly to her feet, a confused look on her face.

"Don't worry Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft is just being rude. He doesn't like others knowing things that he himself hasn't figured out yet."

Mycroft grimaced, and nodded goodbyes to both of the women.

"Thank you ladies for understanding," Rowling said, giving a slight bow to them both. "It was a pleasure meeting you both, not matter how brief. I have a serious problem I need to discuss with Sherlock, and in the effort privacy…"

"Please, Mr. Rowling, so issue at all. I completely understand. And I am actually eager to settle myself in, as I'm a bit tired from traveling," Charlotte said, giving him an identical small bow.

"I'll go ahead and bring Charlotte home, boys. We will meet you there," Mrs. Hudson said, seemingly relieved to be leaving the sitting room.

Both Sherlock and John nodded, focusing their attention back to Mycroft and Rowling. Immediately after the door had closed, Rowling began speaking.

"I am a large shareholder in the Jude & Miller Corporation. I was introduced to the company by my dear friend, Mr. Chandler Frances. Frances has informed me recently that he has a serious interoffice problem. As one of the higher ups' at the company it is his job to manage not only his employees, but also the delicate information that the company deals with," he shifted himself closer to them, as if beckoning them to lean in as he was getting to the best part of a story.

"A certain group of files have gone missing as of 18 hours ago. They were meant to be put into a digital format and then be destroyed, but they never made it that far. Someone involved themselves in a great deal of work not only to ensure that they were never duplicated, but also kept in their original form."

Mycroft looked seriously at both John and Sherlock. John knew that this story had sparked Sherlock's interest, but would remain looking bored as long as Mycroft was still in the room.

"These files are absolutely top-secret. It is of the upmost importance that they be found, retrieved, and back in the company's possession as soon as possible," Mycroft explained.

"And what type of information is withheld within these files?" Sherlock asked.

"That is none of your concern," Mycroft interjected. "It is the actual documents that you need to find, not the information within them."

"Well, this seems rather high profile then, doesn't it John?" Sherlock commented, not breaking his gaze from Mycroft.

"Well, not exactly-" Rowling began.

"I see no other reason why Mycroft would bring you here, Mr. Rowling, to explain the situation if it didn't have something to do with National Security," Sherlock explained. "Unless he meant to try and intimidate me by being in the country's palace once more."

"You're expected by Mr. Chandler Frances at their offices this afternoon," Mycroft said, ignoring him. "Now Sherlock, don't think for a second that-"

"I accept the case."

Sherlock stood quickly and instantly started for the door.

"Just like that? Not even a handshake?" Rowling said, a slight chuckle coming from his throat.

"Good evening, Mycroft. And thank you for your case, Rowling," Sherlock said. John stood as well, cursing Sherlock under his breath for being so unprofessional.

"Surely Sherlock, there is more information that Rowling can give us in order to help us with the case?" John asked.

Sherlock waved his hand down passively, "I don't see what else Rowling can tell us that I haven't already deducted on my own. I'll take the case. Oh, and Mycroft!"

Mycroft looked up, an uninterested look on his face.

"Try not to start another War on my way home, would you big brother?" Sherlock continued. "You know what it does to the traffic."

"As long as you promise to withhold your composure with Charlotte around. She is here on business, you know. Not pleasure."

Sherlock turned him back on Mycroft immediately at the comment, and exited the room, leaving John in his wake.

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><p>Hope you all enjoyed it! Please review! New chapter coming soon!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

I know. _I know._ Two years. It's been two years since I have updated this fic.

More on the reason why later. But for now, the next chapter :)

Sherlock finally found her out on the balcony overlooking the grounds, a glass of champagne in her hand. The train of her long black dress swayed slightly. Simply the sight of her made him feel anxious, eager, and afraid all at once.

When they were younger, his overprotectiveness never felt out of place; she was so kind, so angelic that he felt she needed his protection from the world. For years after she left, he would routinely track her location. Arranging a water pipe to burst in her Istanbul hotel to keep her from a bad part of a city, arranging for a Kenyan local to follow her while she explored… it was needed. He needed to know she was safe.

The past few years had so demanding that he hadn't kept up with Charlotte as much would of liked. While he was well aware she was returning to London, he had felt slightly disconnected when she had arrived. He was eager to talk, _really_ talk, about what she had planned next.

He needed her to see that she needed to stop running. That it was finally time to come back home.

_1 week earlier_

The room smelled like a mixture of lemon and newspaper. While modest in the size, the space held a certain kind of coziness that can only be achieved with age. It boasted in Mrs. Hudson's personal style; pink, frilly bedding, several corgi figurines on the mantel, and a rug that needed replaced.

It was the closest to home Charlotte had felt in years.

Living her life out of a suitcase is came naturally to Charlotte; with a seemingly positive outlook on life, she could make any part of the world a place that she could enjoy. Even so, the knots that grew in her stomach when she had boarded the plane back to England surprised her; it's as if her entire body was aware that something bid was to come.

"How are you settling in?"

Charlotte turned to see Mrs. Hudson in the doorway, a warm smile on her face.

"Lovely. Absolutely lovely. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson, for allowing me to stay."

Mrs. Hudson smiled even brighter, lifting up a tray of tea in a welcoming gesture.

"Well, it's not the Ritz, but I hope you feel at home. Bringing this upstairs to the boys. We could always enjoy this here, their flat has only increased in dinginess unfortunately…"

"Upstairs sounds fine. And I learned my lesson last night: I'll check my seat before I sit down."

John watched Charlotte carefully, taking sips of the bleak tea Mrs. Hudson had brought up. Surely, she was beautiful: bright eyes, a cheerful laugh… but there was something about her. It was as if under all that poise, there was something sad.

John shook his head and shifted his eyes to Sherlock. If anything, one thing was obvious: He had never seen Sherlock so utterly content in the time he had known him.

Sherlock sat in his leather armchair, his body faced in Charlotte's direction. He spoke quietly, quickly, laughing deeply as Charlotte kept him entertained with stories from her most recent destination. For someone who was just given a case concerning the highest power in the country, Sherlock seemed incredibly distracted.

"What do you think, John?"

Taken out of thought, John looked back to Charlotte. "I'm sorry?"

"I think Charlotte could provide excellent insight on the case," Sherlock finished for her, taking a quick sip of his tea.

"Right," John answered, clearing his throat. "And when exactly are we going to start on this?"

"I'm not exactly feeling a sense of urgency from Mycroft," Sherlock responded, a smirk on his face. "I already have my homeless network looking into Herbert Rowling. I wouldn't be surprised if he was behind all of this, and we find the files by morning."

"I'll do what I can to help," Charlotte added, smiling at them both. "If it gives me a chance to end up on your blog, John, then I would love to help solve the case."

John nodded. Sherlock had already turned his attention back to Charlotte, continuing the conversation where they had left off.

With the mood in the room lightening, John sunk back in his chair in thought. It was a great improvement to see Sherlock in great spirits, but couldn't get what Mycroft had said back in the palace out of his head. "Business, not pleasure."

The idea of something romantic happening between Sherlock and another person made him feel uneasy, but he pushed the feelings aside. If Sherlock felt confident in the arrangement, then he would have to as well.

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><p>So... yes. Two years.<p>

I so loved writing this story. And for that reason, I was devastated when my laptop was stolen and I lost _everything_. I hadn't written the story in its entirety, but I did have the ending down.

Just a few weeks ago, I was coming through an old email when I realized that I had sent myself the story, way back when. Since then, I've filled in some of the holes, and come up with something that I think is even better than before.

I hope you enjoy it, and promise to see it through the end!

-Marissa


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Charlotte found herself in the basement of the Jude & Miller Corporation, surrounded by boxes of dated files. Centrally located in London, J&M was an inconspicuous building with heavy security, dark hallways, and an unwelcoming interior.

Sherlock, John, and Charlotte had spent the past few hours digging through the archives, looking for any clues on where the files could have ended up. Sherlock had a theory, supplied by information from his homeless network: the files themselves would of been near impossible to get out of the building with all of the security checks. It's likely someone had simply hid them away,

Charlotte could sense Sherlock's impatience. Seeing his forehead twisted in deep concentration, she couldn't help but smile to herself. This moment reminded her of their summers so many years ago.

Charlotte's parents owned a summer home outside of London. Not knowing any other children, she had spent most of her time alone. It wasn't until she overheard an older boy arguing with a younger one that she became excited, instantly running up to them any chance that she got.

It took several weeks, if not summers, for the Holmes brothers to warm up to Charlotte. During his summers at University, Sherlock and Charlotte would spend hours outside reading, often without conversation. With no demands or expectations, they became companions. They enjoyed the company the other could provide, never anything more.

It took tragedy for Charlotte to realize how she felt. How to act on it, unfortunately, never came to her.

Returning her attention to the basement, she let out a sign. It felt as if they had turned the entire basement over, with no clear end in sight. Most of the files were missing important pages, with those that were left having entire paragraphs blacked out.

"How much longer should we go on?" John asked no one in particular, lugging yet another box to join the rest of the discarded.

"There must be something here," Sherlock swiftly answered. "This is the only place where information at this company goes to die, and anyone trying to get the files out of here would know that."

"Do you have any idea of what information the files contain?" Charlotte asked.

"Unsure. Jude & Miller has a huge portfolio, with their hands in separate investments across the world. The possibilities are seemingly endless, especially when one considers that the documents likely involve either a high profile person, or event. I've narrowed the possibility to South America, taking into consideration…"

Charlotte unintentionally nodded, allowing Sherlock to continue. Hearing Sherlock go into depth with cases, while intriguing, was not enough to make the past few hours any more interesting. Pulling another water damaged box off the top of her pile, she was overtaken with a strong, familiar scent.

The second she lifted off the top of the box, a gasp came from somewhere deep in her throat.

Sherlock quickly crossed the room and stared into the box. Charlotte backed away slowly, a feign attempt to hide her shock.

"John," Sherlock said, motioning for him to come closer.

"What is it?" John asked, rushing over but stopping a few feet away.

"If it's a human limb, I'm not coming any closer."

"Are you a bloody doctor or not?" Sherlock scoffed, reaching into his pocket for a rubber glove.

He slowly pulled out one of many flowers by the stem. There were hundreds of flowers, their color a light purple. Placed in an obvious attempt at a specific formation, their smell quickly filled the room.

"How… incredibly odd."

Sherlock rotated the flower in his hand, puzzled.

"Why could these be here?" Charlotte asked, allowing herself to peer into the box.

"Campion Silene tomentosa."

Pulling out his handheld magnifying glass, he inspected another flower that still lay in the box.

"These are incredibly rare. It's quite possible that these have been genetically engineered. I'd expect it to be unmanageable for these to have been picked, and then brought to England."

John finally reached into the box, surveying one of the flowers. "I don't understand. Why would someone put in all the effort for these to be here? Could we of been meant to find these?"

Taking a quick picture with his iPhone, Sherlock placed the lid back on top of the flowers. His eyes seem to darken, as the next step of the case had become clear. Charlotte wondered what he had realized.

"I'll test these further. However… yes, John. I do think we were meant to find these."

He looked around the room for a few seconds, seemingly listening for something.

"Baker Street," he finally stated.

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><p>Short chapter. Much more to come!<p>

-Marissa


	6. Chapter 6

The cold wind picked up slightly, making the balcony seem even more isolated. Charlotte felt Sherlock touch her elbow, slowly lifting it up and taking her cold hand into his.

"All this time," he began again, slowly swallowing. "I've cared so deeply about your well-being. More than I would like to admit. I respected your independence, but with each new country, each passing month… it became obvious to me what my true feelings were. What my true feelings are."

"After… after your parents passing, I felt as if I had to let you go. That you wanted me to let you go."

Each moment that Sherlock continued, Charlotte felt the pain in her chest intensify. She shut her eyes tightly, a lame attempt to keep her mind clear. _There has to be some way out of this. A way where no one gets hurt._

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><p><em>1 week earlier<em>

As London slept, 221B remained awake. Sherlock kept his eyes glued to his laptop screen, while both John and Charlotte scoured books for any relevant information they could find. Hours had been spent into research, in which Charlotte had greatly extended her knowledge of everything that is, and ever was, rare flower.

"I've got to head to sleep, I'm completely knackered," John said, rising out of his armchair.

"Goodnight, John," Charlotte answered.

Nearly tipping over the stack of books resting on the side table, John bid both Sherlock and Charlotte goodnight.

It took just a few seconds for Charlotte to feel the shift in the room. Being alone with Sherlock usually felt comfortable, content. Unsure if it was from the excitement of the night or her jet lag, she couldn't keep her heart from racing.

"At this rate I'll be dreaming of nearly extinct plants," she started, smiling in Sherlock's direction.

"Why are you nervous?"

Charlotte's eyes shifted quickly to Sherlock's, his peering over his laptop screen.

"I'm sorry?"

"I've already made it known that tapping your foot while reading is a distraction. But you seem… tense."

Charlotte pursed her lips at Sherlock, dropping the book she was holding next to his laptop.

"Do you want my help or not, Mr. Holmes?"

His eyes crinkled, amused by his teasing.

"Of course. I've noticed throughout the day that you seem to be on high alert. I was curious as to why."

Taking a seat on the leather couch behind Sherlock's desk, allowed herself to sink into the folds. She had felt tense, and was well aware that there was no hiding this from Sherlock. But owning up to the real reason was completely out of the question.

"I'll admit, I find helping out on the case thrilling."

"Thrilling?" Sherlock nearly shouted. "This case has only allowed itself one interesting aspect to focus on. However…" Sherlock continued, taking a seat next to Charlotte.

"I'm sure this beats building sustainable housing in Guatemala, or whatever it is you do-"

Charlotte hit him in the shoulder, causing them both to laugh.

Their laughter died down quickly. "Its… wonderful to have you back. You were truly missed," Sherlock stated.

Charlotte felt her cheeks become slightly warm as Sherlock's words sunk in.

"Its… great to be home."


End file.
